#a favour

Growling, Fenris tore out the heart of another slaver before lunging towards the next. Behind him, Isabela moved with graceful precision. The blades in her hands were of poor quality but they were better than nothing. Fenris had no sword to aid him this time – yet his lyrium brands were more than enough.

"You did not have to accompany me," Fenris retorted. Around them, more slavers rushed into the space, shouting in outrage and brandishing weapons. Fenris fixed his sights on a warrior wielding a decent sword. He ignited his brands ran through them all like a ghost, wrenching the heart from his target and extinguishing his brands before grasping the sword.

It was not perfect but it was balanced well enough. He spun, cleaving through two slavers in a single blow.

"Please, and leave you here to deal with this lot on your own? Pfft!" Isabela materialised by his side, blood dripping from her blades and a splash of it on her cheek. "We both know that would end disastrously."

"Duck."

Isabela complied without hesitation and Fenris roared as he swung at the slaver behind her. He heard the song of her blades as he fought, and had to begrudgingly admit that she was right. Fighting with allies granted a large advantage that he had grown accustomed to. A small part of him missed the searing electricity of magic battling on his side.

Of all the mages he had known, Hawke was the one he trusted most.

At last, the final slaver fell and the only sounds to fill the air were the panting breaths of him and Isabela. Fenris wiped sweat and hair out of his face, irritated and musing for a moment that perhaps it was time he cut the hair. Isabela was already kneeling before the locked door, cursing under her breath as she fought with the lock's tumblers.

A click and a huff of triumph. The door swung open to reveal a huddled mass of terrified people. Elves and humans, all of them children. Fenris found his eyes fixing on one young elven boy. Dark hair, dark brows and sharp green eyes. Dirt smudged his face yet he held himself stiffly, as though prepared to fight despite his fear.

A memory, drifting at the edges of his mind. Fenris tried to grasp it, tried to pull it into place. But then Isabela stood, cutting off his view of the boy, and the memory was gone.

"It's alright, everyone. We're here to get you out of here," Isabela announced.

Fenris let himself drift with the familiar actions. Recovering his sword and Isabela's daggers, shepherding the anxious children and guarding them against the few slavers that lingered. The journey back to town was long and he resigned himself to an empty belly that night. Any supplies they found would go straight to the children.

He could not help but watch Isabela once they were safely out on the road. She walked in the midst of the children, laughing and telling stories to cheer them. She rolled her eyes whenever he caught her gaze, but Fenris knew it was a facade. She cared, more than she wanted anyone to know.

The night was warm yet they lit a fire all the same, to comfort the children. Together, Isabela and Fenris fed the children what they could and settled them down to sleep around the fire. Then Fenris moved to the borders of their camp to keep watch, as Isabela did the same on the other side.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled – but only a little. Fenris turned, looking down upon the young elven boy that had stirred his memories before. The boy stood there, his eyes solemn as he stared up at Fenris.

"Yes? Do you need something?" Fenris asked when the boy was not forthcoming. Still, the boy said nothing. But he moved, grasping Fenris' hand in his own small, grubby one.

Hot sun on his shoulders, blood on his lip. Gaze fixed stubbornly on the sand beneath his bare feet. A gentle touch on his face, dabbing away the blood.

"Why were you fighting, Leto?" A smooth voice, warm and familial. Mother.

"They were being mean to Varania. They didn't stop when I told them to. So I made them stop." Petulance in his voice. Small fists clenched in defiance.

"Why did you not call for myself or your father? This burden should not have been yours alone."

"Why not? I'm her big brother. It's my job to care for her."

"That may be, but you could have been terribly hurt."

Small handing reaching out, grasping the hand that held the bloody rag.

"She is my family. Protecting family is always my responsibility. That's what Father says."

"Oh, Leto." Strong arms around him, pulling him against a warm chest that smells of safety and love. "You will do great things one day, my son. I see that now."

The memory faded as abruptly as it had arrived and Fenris gasped, fighting against the instinctual urge to rip away from the boy and run. He held on instead, and stared at the young boy who now gaze fearlessly upon the darkness.

"The woman said to come here," the boy said and Fenris barely suppressed a flinch. "I couldn't sleep and she said you might need help to keep watch."

Fighting to bring his breathing back under control, Fenris glanced over his shoulder towards Isabela. He caught a glimpse of her looking towards him, before she spun her head away, pretending at indifference once more.

Of course she had done this. Of course she prompted this boy to seek him out. Somehow, she always knew. And as the memories remained instead of sliding back into the Void, Fenris felt warmth stirring inside him.